


The Eyes of a Killer

by InchByInch



Category: Homeland
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Happy Birthday, Smut, alternate season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 23:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InchByInch/pseuds/InchByInch
Summary: In this AU, Quinn Laura Sutton released the classified document publicly 48 hours earlier than canon.  And, I’ve always thought Quinn didn’t show up in Berlin randomly.  He knew Carrie was there, and of course, he started surveilling her from the minute he arrived…





	The Eyes of a Killer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SNQA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SNQA/gifts).



> Happy birthday to SQNA who taught me how to own my inner-teenager and become a fangirl! You spread happiness, my friend!

She looked up into his eyes as he was thrusting into her – those blue eyes that expressed so much – caring, vulnerability, lust. She felt like she was seeing into his soul right as her pleasure was building. His hand was still wet from stroking her clit as he caressed her face and spread his fingers around her head to hold her firmly as he braced his other hand against the headboard so that he could push deeper into her.

“Don’t close your eyes” she pleaded. She anticipated them both coming together and she wanted that eye contact at the same time, giving her the feeling of being even closer to him.

“Carrie.” God, she loved the way he said her name.

“Carrie.” Wait. That wasn’t Quinn, that was Jonas saying her name. Fuck.

“You’re having a dream, Liebling. Moaning, like maybe it’s a sexy dream.”

“You want to make my dream come true?” She purred at Jonas in the dark. She really needed an orgasm now.

He chuckled. “Come here.” He pulled her on top of him, guiding her hands where he wanted them. She watched his face as she deftly made him hard, then rubbed him against herself for stimulation so that she efficiently got them both off. She used her t-shirt to wipe herself and then him before finding a fresh shirt so that she would be clean and ready for Franny in the morning. 

“Thanks, Jonas.”

“Carrie, you’re amazing.” He was half asleep.

“I’m lucky to have you.” She meant it. She had to figure out how to get Otto safely through this idiotic visit to the Lebanese refugee camps next week, and without Jonas to take care of Franny, she’d be sunk. In so many ways, Jonas was a critical component of this life she was building, and she really wanted this life. 

\------

Quinn slid his hand under and around the rim of the ordinary-looking table and found the latch. _Click._ He lifted the entire top up to reveal a bomb-making toolkit. Yes. Everything he would need, this would be easy. Fuck, there has to be a timer here somewhere. He did a more thorough search of the workbench. No timer. But, there was a small notebook full of Arabic and German writing. Without stopping to think, Quinn shoved it in his pocket right as a sound at the front door gave him a shot of adrenaline. This fucker better have brought a timer home with him.

It didn't take long for Quinn to secure the situation and finish the bomb so that German authorities would assume the explosive accidentally went off as the terrorist was making it.

“Two minutes to prepare yourself for paradise. Well, two minutes more or less. It’s not a very good timer.” With those parting words, Quinn left the apartment and didn't even turn when the sound of the explosion rocked the street as he walked to his car.

Quinn didn’t turn on the engine after climbing into the driver's seat. Instead, he switched on the overhead light and pulled out the notebook. The small booklet reminded him of similar pads he had used to decode instructions, which, he realized, was why he had instinctively grabbed it. Of course, Quinn always memorized the message and destroyed the paper. The latest resident of paradise seemed to have been filled with more passion than professionalism or paranoia. Quinn flipped through the pages and paused to read the last entry.

_Herz Jesu, 5.00 Uhr, Barbie-Haar, noch nicht, 11.00 Uhr Alsimashqi_

Fuck.

SHIT.

“Holy Jesu Church, 5:00, Barbie-doll hair. Not yet, 11:00 Alsimashqi.”

Quinn had come to the bomber’s apartment straight from Holy Jesu. He had slipped out of the last pew just as 5:00 mass began, feeling a mix of emotions as he watched Carrie bow her head in prayer. 

Fuck. He leaned his head forward on the steering wheel for 2 seconds, overwhelmed by emotion, before starting the car and focusing his mind on his new self-appointed mission to find Carrie.

\------

He found her at the second location he checked, less than an hour later. He’d known Berlin well a few years ago. The city seemed to be almost entirely transformed, but the tunnels near Holy Jesu’s hadn’t changed much since the last time Quinn had followed a terrorist through here. Three guys, Carrie bound with zip ties around her wrist, but her legs were free. They didn’t seem to anticipate any trouble. Quinn worked to contemplate all the ramifications, and he tried to hear what they were asking her, but in the end, he kept seeing Fara being threatened instead of Carrie. He gave up and dropped each one of the captors with his silenced .22. 

Carrie was clearly terrified as he ran towards her. He knew she was capable of causing him harm, but he couldn’t fathom how to be reassuring. “Carrie,” was the best he could do.

“Quinn! Thank God! What the fuck are you doing here?”

He didn’t say anything, simply grabbed her hands and pulled her after him back down the tunnel.

“Help me get get out of these zip ties!”

Quinn ignored her demand and continued dragging her along towards an exit. Carrie had all she could manage not to fall as he dragged her along back out onto the street and shoved her in his car.

She held out her wrists to him.

“What the FUCK is going on, Quinn?”

“I just saved you.” He turned towards her from his place in the driver’s seat and pulled out his knife to free her.

“I didn’t need saving. I _asked_ to meet with those people. I was making a deal and now you’ve killed them and pissed off some powerful people on my behalf. They picked me up after church this evening in a kidnap, but they were taking me to bargain with Hes–-”

“WHAT?” Quinn glared at her with an expression of incredulity and fury. “What the fuck are you thinking? You are out of the agency, you have no back-up. You shouldn’t be involved with these people.”

“Fuck you, I don’t answer to you.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ, Carrie, that’s not all.” He pulled the notebook from his jacket, already opened to the relevant page and handed it to her as he pulled into traffic.

She could barely make out the words in the ambient light. When she finished reading, she was quiet for a minute. “Fuck Quinn. You don’t know what that means.”

“I know exactly what that means. What did you _think_ were doing at that _meeting_ that you _requested?”_

“I’m working for the During Foundation—” 

“I know where you work.” 

“Otto wants to visit the Alladia refugee camp in Lebanon, so I was trying—” 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

“ _This_ is ridiculous. Where did you get this note?” 

“At the apartment of an assassin. Now former assassin. I know a kill order when I see one, Carrie. We are going to inform Saul and get you and Franny into hiding until I can take care of this.” 

“I’m not going into hiding.” 

“Yes, you are. Look, Carrie, Franny’s in danger.” Quinn’s voice was harsh and emphatic. “That is the obvious way to get to you, through her.” 

“No one is going to get Franny! Quinn, I… You don’t understand. This is not my life anymore!” 

“Someone must have missed that memo.” 

“I _can’t_ leave. Quinn… you have to help me.” 

“I told you, I’ll take care of this.” 

“No. Help me take care of this _now._ There’s too much at stake.” 

Quinn hadn’t taken his eyes off the road for the entire conversation. Now he pulled to a stop light and turned to face Carrie, but he remained silent. 

“Please, Quinn! It looks like there’s a meeting at 11:00 tonight.” 

Quinn still said nothing. 

“There is a Bulgarian restaurant in a Syrian neighborhood named Aldimashqi. It’s 10:15 now – we have to leave immediately so that we can see who shows. You know this must be some kind of retaliation scheme. With any luck, I’ll recognize whoever comes to give instructions. Then we tell Saul and he takes care of it so I don’t have to bug out.” 

“Fuck, Carrie.” But he pulled into an ally to turn the car around. 

_\------_

By 10:40, Carrie and Quinn were seated at a table with a clear view of the door in a bright cafe. Quinn could think of a thousand reasons why their interpretation of the note was incorrect and a thousand more why the situation would be changed at this point. Still, he didn't have any other options and he couldn’t ignore the possibility that they might get lucky. 

Carrie had called Jonas from the car and apologized for missing dinner at his sister’s house. She explained that she was caught up in meetings to prepare for the upcoming refugee camp visit, and would not be able to pick them up that night. Could they stay over? Quinn snorted with amusement at how easily Carrie manipulated Jonas. He happily agreed to stay at his sister's with Franny, and then drop her off at daycare in the morning. That drop-off had Quinn worried, the girl would be vulnerable in an obvious location and following a predictable routine, but at least for now she should be relatively safe. Whoever was after Carrie had been busy this afternoon, and they wouldn't know about Jonas' sister's home. Quinn felt pretty good about the two of them here at the cafe, as well. Quinn wore a watch cap covering most of his head and Carrie’s hair was entirely hidden by an overly modest hijab. They blended in with the crowd as they stirred Turkish coffees and waited. 

Carrie was too nervous to play it cool anymore with Quinn. “Where have you been, anyway?” 

“Classified.” 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Also classified.” 

“How long have you been in Berlin?” 

“Long enough.” 

“Long enough for what?” 

“Shh.” Carrie’s irritation had made her loud, the opposite of blending in this cheerful and relaxed atmosphere in the cafe. 

“Quinn. Dar said you were on a dark op in Syria, that he couldn’t contact you. I thought he was lying but I wasn’t sure.” 

Quinn regarded her suspiciously over his coffee cup. “I was in Syria.” 

“Out of contact?” 

“What do you mean, Carrie?” 

“That’s why I quit, you know. I couldn’t handle their deal with Haqqani, but I also couldn’t believe they wouldn’t get a message to you.” 

Quinn stared at her sullenly for a minute. “I was unreachable for a while.” 

“Why the fuck, Quinn? You’re an asshole, you know that?” 

“Pretty clear on that point.” 

Before Carrie could think about how to respond to that, Quinn focused her attention on a guy returning from the bathroom. He’d been there since they entered, so Quinn saw him as a potential contact, but the man simply exchanged goodbye kisses with his friends at his table and left the cafe. 

They stayed silent for a minute, then Quinn spoke up again. “You’ve done alright for yourself. Got a new Brody.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“I was trying to say something nice. He seems like a good guy.” 

“Yeah, well, he is good for me. It’s wonderful after a nightmare to wake up with someone who will give you a really excellent orgasm, you know?” 

“I do know. I’ve been seeing Astrid.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“You should try the orgasm _before_ sleep, Carrie, no nightmares.” 

“Fuck you, Quinn.” 

Quinn suddenly reached over and cupped her face in his large hand, bending his face close to hers. Carrie caught her breath, flustered for many reasons. 

“You recognize him? I’d bet anything he’s our guy.” A tall, European-looking middle-aged man had just walked into the cafe and was headed towards an empty table with a view of the door. Quinn’s movements gave Carrie cover to look. 

“I can’t be sure, but I think… I might have seen him back in Bagdad, years ago. At the Russian embassy.” 

“The Russians? Fuck me.” 

Quinn didn’t move, allowing Carrie to continue observing the man discreetly. Then Quinn leaned in and for a moment she thought ... but he just rested his forehead against hers. She moved her hand to touch his face, covering him from their target’s view. They both were hidden in a private moment, inches apart, looking right into each other’s eyes. 

And then they broke away. 

The man they were watching waited, seemingly relaxed and slightly bored for 20 minutes, and then signaled he was ready to pay. Quinn had already settled their tab. 

“We have to follow him.” 

“Carrie, you have to get to safety. You and Franny.” 

"We’ll be careful. I’m safer with you than anywhere else, and now is the best chance you’ll have to connect this guy to the puzzle. You understand that.” 

“What I understand is how you’re getting a hit from this game.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“Carrie.” 

“Quinn, I don’t _want_ this. I DON’T. I just want her safe.” 

Quinn said nothing. 

Carrie sighed. “Listen, I get what you’re saying. I do, but you know we _have_ to follow him. Franny is safe tonight. We can activate my fallback plan tomorrow.” 

Quinn still said nothing, but he got up and held her chair so that the two of them left the cafe ahead of their target, the easier to pursue without suspicion. 

_––-_

“Shit!” 

“Motherfucker.” 

They stood on the street frozen, stunned as they each processed what had just happened. The tall Russian man had walked, seemingly aimlessly, for five blocks before abruptly switching directions and doubling back. Only Quinn’s skills and Carrie’s instincts (as well as some fantastic luck) had allowed them to follow discreetly. Then, seemingly at random, the man had stopped at a visible spot on a corner. He began smoking a cigaret, but before he finished, he stamped it with his heal. Immediately afterward a car not too far from Carrie and Quinn drove away from where it had been parked on the street. The Russian man headed in the opposite direction, towards a much busier street where Quinn and Carrie could see him hailing a cab. 

“That was a signal, Quinn! To an _agency_ car. It had to be.” 

Quinn sighed. “There are plenty of '14 VW Golfs exactly like that all over the city. That’s _why_ we use them in our fleet. It could be nothing. Come on.” They walked quickly back to Quinn’s car. 

“Quinn.” Carrie reached out to touch his arm so that they both stopped. 

He looked at her. “OK. Agreed. At least, that is what it feels like to me. Let’s keep moving.” 

“To _both_ of us. 

“Yeah. So, the kill order may originate from someone inside Berlin station. Someone working with the Russians. We can’t go to Saul now. You have to disappear. We should consider faking your death.” 

“I _have_ to go to Saul, now. And, I am coming back here. I’m not going to fake my death.” 

“No one can be trusted, Carrie. Our move now is to get you out of town.” 

“I have a storage locker with money, medicines, and papers. But we _have_ to talk with Saul.” 

“Let’s go. Franny will be fine at Jonas’s sister’s tonight, but we’ll need to get her first thing. We have to assume that they will target her location with a stingray in order to get to you.” 

“Fuck, Quinn. No one’s going to hurt Franny.” 

“Not if we handle this right. Let’s go.” 

_______

They were both lost in their own thoughts on the way to Carrie’s storage locker, but then Quinn broke the silence. 

“Only at first, Carrie.” 

“Hmm?” 

“I was only unreachable at first.” 

“Well it took eighteen hours from our last phone contact for me to show up at Dar’s home, so I guess that counts for ‘at first.’” 

“Jesus, Carrie, I’ve been fucking pissed about that last phone contact for the last 2 years.” 

Carrie turned to face Quinn with a look of shock and disbelief. “You can stay mad, I don’t care.” 

“I will.” 

“Good.” 

They fell into silence once more. 

The place was not monitored at night, very little security, which is why Carrie had chosen it. She was able to get in with her key and the two of them used the lights on their phones to efficiently sort out what would be useful among the boxes and the excess furniture from when Carrie and Jonas combined apartments just a few months ago. 

“So, I guess you weren’t sure your new life was going to work out,” Quinn finally offered. 

“I found a good life here.” was Carrie’s response. 

“Still kept your fall back plan.” 

“I’m _happy._ We’re happy here.” She stared at Quinn, who was jamming medications and passports into a bag with unnecessary force, and then she seemed to shift gears. “Quinn, the last two years, I looked for you, I tried to find you –” 

He interrupted her with a cold tone. “It doesn’t matter now.” He pulled out a small med kit he had apparently just found and begun rummaging through it. “There is only one option at this point. We need to make you dead.” 

“No. This isn’t going to last. I’ll hide, but I’m coming back.” 

“Face it, Carrie. We don’t know who this is. You’re fucked.” He took out his knife and walked towards her with an air of purpose. 

“Quinn. What are you doing? Quinn!” 

He slit a large gash in the side of his hand without breaking his stride. 

“Shh. Don’t move, Carrie.” His hand was all over her face as he looked at her with intensity, the contact bringing his own face close to hers. “Stop moving” he whispered. His large fingers stroked her cheek. Then abruptly he pulled away from her with such force that she collapsed a little against the wall. She was still looking at him in bewilderment. 

“Play fucking dead.” He held out his phone to take her picture, and she must have caught on a few minutes before because she sank into a lifeless pose immediately. 

He checked the result on his phone. “Pretty gruesome.” 

Carrie stood back up, finding herself uncomfortably close to Quinn. “Thanks.” 

“Mhmm.” he granted in reply, his attention shifting from evaluating the picture to applying a bandage to his hand. 

“I mean it, Quinn, thanks for… this.” 

She seemed about to say more, but his hand was suddenly back on her face. Rubbing her cheek again, or maybe caressing… she turned into his palm, so that her open mouth and tongue were now pressing against his palm, onto his wrist, and she tasted a little of his blood. She looked back into his eyes, and for a moment they just stared at each other. 

It wasn’t clear who moved first, both of them reaching out and pulling their bodies closer. The kiss was rough and careless and full of energy. Carrie pushed Quinn against the back wall so that she could have him the way she – 

But then he was moving her back, lifting her up onto the counter of a low dresser, brushing the inside of her thighs so that they moved apart automatically. 

“Is this what you want, Carrie?” His voice was harsh in her ear. She struggled to look in his face but he wouldn’t let her. “Or, are you afraid, Carrie?” 

“Oh, this is what _I_ want if _you_ can manage it without running away.” 

Suddenly he lifted her up and she found her face pressed against the metal wall. Quinn growled in her ear as he pulled down her pants. “Are you sure, Carrie?” 

She awkwardly kicked off her pants, leaving her naked from the waist down. “Fuck you, Bastard, I know what I want. The question is whether you can handle it?” She arched her bottom into his crotch, causing his breath to catch and allowing her to twist again so that her back was against the wall. She was facing the open chain link that surrounded one side of the storage area, and the idea that anyone who came would see them was exhilarating. Fuck, she had not been doing enough yoga recently, but she still managed to drag her foot upwards along Quinn’s body, before he got the picture and helped move her legs so that her foot was resting on his shoulder while her other leg locked around his waist. He moved to grip her ass tightly, one hand at a time as he struggled out of his pants and boxers, but then much more securely with both hands. All of this was accompanied by mutual grinding and moaning revealing an urgency that seemed to have come from nowhere. 

He had her positioned now so that she was well-supported between his body and the wall. His dick was fully hard and he established a quick grinding rhythm while she used her hands to guide him in. The angle provided more stimulation and friction that she expected and she mouthed his chin, his collarbone, grazing him with her teeth and humming loudly with her pleasure. He turned his head and bit her instep, not hard, but not gently either, and she yelped. He didn’t give her a break but changed his angle again so that he could push deeper inside her. “Oh God, Quinn.” He was grunting now with the effort to keep pushing deeper into her, and he began biting and sucking on her neck and ear with desperation. “Is this how you like it, Carrie? Up against the wall and fast?” 

She smacked his ass so that the loud sound rang through the room. “Harder you fucker. And not so fast.” 

He narrowed his eyebrows and suddenly pulled her away, almost throwing her down on a nearby armchair, while at the same time he shoved the boxes that had been there to the floor. He fell to his knees on top of the boxes and leaned into her with all his weight, while she wrapped her legs around his hips. The chair tipped crazily against the wall. The sudden change and the new angle almost filled her consciousness, but her emotion was also intensified. She grabbed a handful of his hair in her fist, causing him to gasp as she jerked his head so that she could look into his eyes. 

“You left me, right when I _needed_ you, fucking asshole. Quinn. Why?”

“ _You_ left _me_.” He punctuated his words with deep thrusts, his face contorting with each movement. “You took off. Immediately.” There were tears were all over his face. He was crying. Fucking crying. “And now you want this? Is this what you want?” His voice was harsh to compensate for the tears. He was still inside her, but he stopped thrusting.

She hissed at him in response, “I want it harder, and I want you to tell me why! Why the same thing always...”

“Why? Why the _fuck_ didn’t you just let me get Haqqani, and everything could have been over? Why did you act like...? Fuck, Carrie, I needed your help. I _told_ you.” His anger seemed to overwhelm his sobs, but his cheeks were still wet.

Her fury was so intense she didn’t care. “I couldn’t _fucking_ find you.” 

He loomed over her and snarled, “Not when you were in fucking _Missouri,_ you couldn’t!” He began thrusting again, and soon their angry exchange become an exchange of moans and grunts, and then Carrie’s pleas morphed into high pitched squeaks. She wasn’t sure which one of them came first, but right as she was finishing her climax he suddenly let her go and collapsed underneath her on the floor, and she allowed herself to slide down on top of him. They both lay with their limbs carelessly arranged exactly how they had fallen, gasping for breath.

“Fuck,” said Quinn.

Carrie said nothing, and he thought he knew why, but suddenly he realized she was crying, really crying. He frowned in confusion and pulled her into a protective embrace so that he was lying on his back and she was curled up on his chest with his arms around her. The papers from the box had spilled out across the floor where Quinn was lying, but the coldness of the concrete still seeped through them to Quinn’s back. It felt hard and good, a relief for his sweaty and heaving body, and also a physical way he could shield her from the hardness. He wrapped his arms around her tighter and kissed her hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, FrangipaniFlower and Laure001 for the excellent editorial suggestions!


End file.
